Friends are for Such a Time as This
by Victoria Hughes
Summary: A young Aragorn is eager for adventure, but instead ends up hopelessly lost! Fortunately a certain Mirkwood prince stumbles across the child ...
1. Part I

_Friends are for Such a Time as This – Part I_

By Vikki

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and the beings thereof belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his kin.  I'm making no money, so please don't sue me.

Notes:  This story occurs c. 2940, when Aragorn (then known as Estel) is only 9 years of age and under the care of Elrond.  Out of amusement at the tremendous difference in age between Legolas and Aragorn, I composed this snippet.  Behold as the Elf babysits the Man whom he will later follow across Middle Earth …

*   *   *

_"Then Aragorn, being now the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond; and Elrond took the place of his father and came to love him as a son of his own.  But he was called Estel, that is 'Hope', and his true name and lineage were kept secret at the bidding of Elrond …"_

_--Lord of the Rings, Return of the King; Appendix A, pg. 1032_

*   *   *

                "By the Valar, Estel!" cried Gilraen, her voice distraught, nearly pricking herself on her needle.  "Must you run about so?"

                But the child scrambling across the sewing room paid her no heed, a cry of delight on his lips.  "I cannot stop, mother, or Elrohir will catch me!"  He soon disappeared around the corner, his laughter and the slap of his feet upon the marble giving away his path.  "Do not tell him where I hide!  He must find me!" he called ere the sounds of his flight quieted.

                "That boy …" sighed the woman, laying her embroidery in her lap and gazing after the youth, a small sigh of despair upon her lips.  "He will be the death of me."

                "And yet you live on, fair lady, and may you live long yet," said a gentle voice, and when Gilraen looked up she saw it was Elrohir who spoke.  His eyes were stern, but a mild smile turned the corners of his mouth.

                "You speak kindly," replied Gilraen, inclining her head, but she too bore a tender smile.  "This seems a rare honor; what brings you to the sewing room of Imladris this day, Elrohir?"

Elrohir cocked his head slightly towards the door whence Estel had made his escape and brought a long finger to his lips.  "Where goes Estel?" he asked, his voice raised, and a childish giggle could be heard.  "For I agreed to play Seek and Hide, but now it seems I have thoroughly lost him, and I know not where he might have gone from here."

Gilraen smiled in earnest then, raising her voice to join in the Elven lord's game.   "He passed through here, but more I cannot say.  For then I would be aiding you, and I am informed by my son that such things are not allowed."

Again a muffled chuckle came from the far doorway, and Elrohir slipped on silent feet across the sewing room, gazing down the empty hall with mirthful eyes.  "Alas, then all is lost!" cried the Elf dramatically, "For Estel is skilled at his art!  I know not if my tracking skills will be enough to find him."

Gilraen made a clucking noise and turned back to her embroidery as she carried on in the façade.  "Truly, Estel's skill must be great if even you cannot track him, Elrohir.  But then all is not well!  For if you do not find him, I fear he will miss dinner, and that would be a grave thing indeed."

There was a disappointed gasp from Estel's hiding place, and Elrohir turned his fair gaze to the youth's mother at this, his gaze full of mischief.  "Then tell you where he hides?  He must not starve."

"Nay, I cannot," sighed Gilraen.  "He instructed me specifically that you must find him.  I may not tell you where he lies in wait."

"Then my search has been in vain," moaned the Elf. "May he appear soon, or I fear the wrath of my father when I tell him his dear son has been lost!"

"No, Elrohir, you needn't!" cried the child, springing from where he had crouched behind a pillar.  He ran into the sewing room, distressed.  "I am right here!"  But when he saw the smile upon Elrohir's face, and the amusement in his mother's eyes, he scowled.  "I have been tricked!" he sighed.

"But with good intentions," said Elrohir, his hand falling to the youth's hair to smooth it back.  "For indeed, dinnertime draws nigh."

"You could have simply asked me to come out," Estel pouted.

"But it was so much more entertaining, drawing you out this way," laughed the son of Elrond.  "Was it not, fair lady?"

Gilraen looked upon the scowling features of her son and smiled.  "Yes," she agreed, "And it is well, for you must grow used to teasing, dear son.  Many may taunt you in your lifetime, and you must learn a good humor."

But Estel wanted nothing of morals and good humor.  "Someday I shall successfully hide from you, Elrohir!" he said petulantly.

Elrohir nodded, still light in heart.  "So you might, Estel; so you might," he agreed.  "But for now, I would see you and your mother hide away a meal in your stomachs."

He could not have known that Estel spoke prophetically.

*   *   *

                "I want to go to Mirkwood."

                Elrond, Lord of Imladris and Keeper of one of the Three, gazed with wonder upon Estel as the human child looked up at him, his face stern.  "I wish to go to Mirkwood with Elladan and Elrohir."

                "Who gave you this idea?" inquired the Elven lord, a smile quirking upon his lips.

                "No one; I am nearly ten years old, and I am able to use a bow and sword.  I want to hunt Orcs with my brothers!" cried the child.

                Elrond was nearly unable to hold back his smile, for he perceived Estel was headstrong and lacking experience.  It seemed to him that sending Estel towards Mirkwood was akin to sending a babe unto the wolves, for nine was young even for the children of Man.  "I am sorry, my child, but you are not yet ready for Orcs," he said gently, kneeling before the youth so that they were eye to eye.

                "Elladan told me that my skill with the sword was enough to fell a Warg," Estel protested.

                Elrond shook his head slowly, for his eldest son's exaggerations had given his surrogate son false hopes.  Indeed, Estel was not yet even tall enough to wield a true sword; rather, he carried an Elven dagger at his hip.  "Oh, Estel, Estel," he sighed.  "I cannot permit this."

                Estel scowled at this, but before he could speak Elladan came into the room on silent Elven feet.  "Father, I would that Estel come with us, at least for a part of the journey," said he.  "Mayhap he will learn a thing or two, and he shall be well-protected."

                Elrond straightened and gazed at his son, the elder of the twins by but a minute or two.  "I do not think this wise, Elladan."

                "If he were to travel with us for but a few days, would you permit it?" suggested Elladan.  "We would be but a few leagues from the realm of Imladris."

                "How would you return him?" inquired Elrond.

                "I want to go all the way to Mirkwood," interjected Estel stubbornly, bringing upon himself the gaze of both Elves.

                "That," said Elladan, a smile alighting upon his features, "even I cannot allow."

                "Nor will I," promised Elrond firmly.  He looked lovingly upon the youth. "Please leave us, Estel, for I must discuss this matter with my son.  Mayhap you shall travel with them for a ways."

                Estel pouted as young children were wont to do, but he bowed his head in acquiesce.  "Yes, father," he said dutifully before dragging himself from the room.

                Elrond watched the child go and turned again to Elladan.  "I would that you had waited until Estel was not present, for I still doubt greatly the wisdom of allowing him to come for even a short ways.  Now you may have given him false hopes."

                Elladan shook his head.  "I hope that I have not, father, and perhaps you will agree when you have heard me out.  Estel is a strong child and his skill with the sword (although it is but a dagger, he wields it as a sword) is nothing to be mocked.  If he were to come with us, it would be for naught more than two days.  We would have barely left your realm ere we sent him back with good Rivendell warriors.  He could hardly be safer than when he scampers about these halls haphazardly."

                Elrond sighed at this and looked beyond his son to the sky, visible through the many windows of Imladris' open chambers.  "I doubt not the safety of your company, or the company of the many elves here, for all are strong and well-trained.  But to what purpose would you do this thing?  Surely not to merely please the whims of a young child."

                Elladan again shook his head, the smile on his lips containing little mirth.  "Nay, father.  Perhaps it would make Estel happy, but it is for a far grander reason that I desire his presence.  For we both know whose son he is, and of what lineage he comes, although I dare not speak it.  I say it is well that he begin to see the land beyond your realm, for I fear that all too soon he shall be swept up in a sea of danger that we shall not be able to prevent.  I only wish to educate Estel while he remains hidden."

                Elrond fixed his eyes upon his son, his features resolute.  "I see the wisdom of your words, Elladan, and so I am reluctant to hold back my approval.  Thus I say that Estel shall go with you, but he shall go no further than a day's travel from Imladris' borders.  But know that there is a foreboding in my heart that speaks of danger, and you would do well to heed such things before they cause much pain."

                Elladan nodded gravely, for he too held such a foreboding.  "We shall pay special care to Estel's safety," he promised.

                "See that you do," Elrond replied curtly, but he smiled as he spoke.  "I know how much you care for him, and I know you will not let harm befall him.  When do you leave?"

                "On the morrow, with the light of the sun," replied Elladan, bowing slightly, a smile upon his lips as well.  "I thank you, father, and now I must depart.  Estel must be told the favorable news."

                "Indeed," agreed the Elven lord, voice grave but features light-hearted.  "Yes, indeed."

*   *   *

Author's Notes:  Like so many LotR authors, I am fascinated by the relationship between Legolas and Aragorn.  When it comes to Lord of the Rings, though, I'm against slash, so I tend to look for platonic explanations … and amusing stories.

Well, anyway … I've interpreted Elrond loving Estel as a son to be pretty much that Estel is his adopted son.  Not unlike Cassia, who is a kickass author.

Legolas appears in the next chapter, so stay tuned!  ^_________^x

~~Vikki


	2. Part II

_Friends are for Such a Time as This – Part II_

_By Vikki_

*   *   *

                It seemed to Estel that Elladan was laughing at him.

                "You must keep your arrow aligned with your gaze, Estel, or the arrow will not find its mark," the elder twin patiently reminded the child.  "Try again, and do not drop your elbow.  If you flinch away from the bow, then you have lost."

                Estel scowled with concentration, drawing the bow taut.  When his fingers lay against his cheek, he released the arrow, but the string struck his cheek as it slacked off and he winced, pulling away.  His shoulders fell with disappointment as again the arrow went awry, glancing off the edge of the target and burying itself in the ground.  Swiftly he turned his gaze on his Elven brother.  "Do not laugh, Elladan!  I know what I did wrong," he said before the Elf could speak.  "I held the bow too close to my body, and the bowstring struck my cheek."  He rubbed the sore spot ruefully.  "I also flinched away from the bow, and thus did not follow through."

                Elladan looked as if he wished to smile, but his well-trained features were so schooled as to be unreadable.  "You have learned quickly, Estel.  You show maturity.  I concur with your assessment."  Here he paused, contemplating.  "But the hour grows late.  It is time to eat.  Let us retrieve your arrows."

                Estel followed the Elf to the target and freed his first arrow from the ground at its side, thinking upon his brothers and the hunting trip thus far.  Three days previous had the party of fourteen set out from Rivendell, and three quiet days they had been; not the slightest sign of evil had they seen, although Elrohir had felled a wounded wolf the day before.

                "Tonight we sit a day's ride from the borders of Imladris," observed Elladan gently as he slipped several more arrows into Estel's small quiver.  "On the morrow you must return home."

                "I know," said Estel, and he could not keep the disappointment from his voice.

                Elladan sighed, placing a hand upon Estel's slender shoulders.  "Are you dissatisfied?"

                "I know that father only wants to protect me, but he cannot protect me forever!" cried the child, unable to hold back his frustration.  "I am learning quickly, and I know that I am safe with you and Elrohir."

                "You are safe," agreed Elladan, "but there will be more than enough adventures in your lifetime to make up for this uneventful trip.  Someday you may even wish you did not have quite so many adventures."

                But Estel would not be comforted.  "Can I not stay with you for one more day?"

                Elladan shook his head as he led the boy back to their camp.  "I am sorry, but I cannot allow it.  Father would be mortified!"

                Estel sighed heavily, but he could not help but smile at the image of Elrond's face that Elladan's words conjured.  "He would be, wouldn't he?"

                Elladan laughed, nodding.  "So you see why I cannot let you come?  Enjoy your last night here, and remember that your trip is far from over.  You still have three days until you shall be back in Rivendell."

                Estel nodded reluctantly.  "I will try."

                "That, young one, is all we ever ask."

*   *   *

                The night was quiet.

                Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and prince of Mirkwood, crouched silently in the branches of a tree, his bow in his hands and at the ready.  His sharp Elven eyes pierced the darkness as he gazed out into the night.

                He was uneasy, although he did not yet speak of it to his companions.  Indeed, the night was quiet, but the silence was unnatural.  He could not hear the birds, and the trees whispered amongst themselves of intruders.  The Elf shifted slightly and fingered an arrow in his quiver.

There were four Elves in the hunting party, of which Legolas was one.  They had traveled far from their realm in pursuit of an Orc band, but now they neared the edge of Rivendell, and all were eager to return to the realm of Mirkwood.  They were many leagues from their home.

"I do not like the feel of these woods," said the Elf perched on the branch below Legolas.  "There is some evil here that we cannot see.  The trees speak of it and the silence murmurs of it."

"I sense this as well as you, Airelond," murmured Legolas.  He again shifted.  "It is the reason that none of us sleep tonight, I fear."

"We are almost a league from the Misty Mountains," observed Airelond, "and even further from the evil that pervades our own home.  Why does the same sense of danger lie here?"

Legolas could only shake his head, for he too wondered from whence this unease came.  "Perhaps Encirith shall return with some explanation."

As if Legolas' words had called him, the fair-haired Elf named Encirith appeared from among the trees.  He inclined his head in deference to the prince.  "Legolas, I fear I did not find the evil that we seek, but I saw something I did not quite expect.  Some miles to the south of us, a party of Elves has made camp.  Their appearance and attire suggest they hail from Imladris."

"That is not so strange," Legolas replied.  "We are no more than twenty leagues from Lord Elrond's domain."

"Perhaps they seek the same Orcs that we do," suggested Airelond.

"Perhaps," agreed Encirith reluctantly.

"Regardless," broke in Legolas, "we are turning back, come dawn.  We are too far from Mirkwood to be of any aid to our people, and the business of Imladris is not our concern.  Nonetheless … how far from our camp do they rest, Encirith?"

"I would say no more than eight leagues distant.  They have made camp in a nearby clearing."

Legolas frowned in thought.  "How many in their party?"

"More than ten.  I did not come close enough or watch carefully enough to determine more, for they were not what I sought."

Legolas nodded, the subtle suggestion that they leave well enough alone not lost upon the prince.  "That is so.  I thought only to warn them of the danger possibly at hand."

"Legolas, I would not risk it," said Airelond, "For they are some miles from our own path.  In addition, they too are Elves, and they shall be on their guard just as we are.  This warning in my heart is surely sensed by all our kind.  There is no need for us to waste our time coming to them."

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought.  "How say you, Encirith?"

"I find Airelond's council to be wise, for even you yourself have said the business of Imladris is not our own," replied the fair-haired Elf.

Legolas smiled wanly.  "Then we shall turn back and not detour unto their camp," he agreed.  He gazed beyond his companions into the gloom of the night.  "Where is Glirhuin?"

Airelond merely shook his head.  "He has not returned from his watch, but you know how he can be.  Mayhap he only waits for one of us to come relieve him."

Legolas began to nod.  "Then I shall go to—"

"Legolas!"

The Elven prince and his companions turned towards the cry, and all drew breath at what they beheld.  Glirhuin leapt through the trees, his features etched with worry and his hand upon his side.  His bow was in his hand and his quiver was emptied.  "Orcs!  They come towards us from the east, and their numbers are not as few as we might like," he said grimly as he came to rest on the outer branches of the tree.  He bowed slightly to the prince.  "I am sorry, Legolas, for I fear I alerted them to my presence.  An Orc chanced to see me in the trees, and I foolishly released my arrow.  If I had not done so, perhaps the foul creature would have dismissed what he saw."

Legolas shook his head quickly.  "It is of no matter."

"Glirhuin, you are hurt," cried Airelond, prying the Elf's hand from his bleeding side.

"It was only a glancing blow, and the arrow was not poisoned," Glirhuin dismissed the wound.  "We have more pressing matters to attend."

"I can hear them," observed Encirith sharply.

Legolas too could hear the approaching Orcs, for they were not stealthy creatures.  "How many, Glirhuin?"

"Forty I counted, but I did not dare tarry long," replied the Elf, allowing Airelond to wrap the wound as he grimaced.  He caught Legolas' concerned gaze and shook his head.  "This scratch can wait until we are in the clear.  What is it you would have us do, my prince?"

Legolas thought swiftly and assembled a simple plan.  "We shall flee south, towards the Rivendell Elves, but we shall do so stealthily.  We are far from home and although they are evil beings, we are not equipped to deal with great numbers.  I will not allow our party to unnecessarily put itself at risk.  Do not shoot unless you feel that you have no choice."  As he spoke he drew several arrows from his quiver and handed them to Glirhuin.  "Try to stay in the trees."

"We would have done nothing else," acknowledged Encirith.

Legolas gave a curt nod.  "May Elbereth keep us all safe."

They scattered into the trees without a sound.

*   *   *

                "There is evil in the trees, Elladan," murmured Elrohir.

                The elder twin nodded gravely as he stood by his brother.  Both gazed into the trees to the east of their camp.

                "If the scouts find Orcs, shall we pursue them?" asked the younger Elf.  "It would be strange to see a band this far west."

                "If such a band exists," said Elladan, "Then we would do well to strike them down.  We cannot tolerate a band of Orcs this close to Rivendell.  It is difficult to allow them even the Misty Mountains!  I would that we could wipe their scourge from the face of Middle-Earth!"

                Elrohir placed a calming hand upon his brother's arm.  "Calmly, brother.  We do not chase our mother's kidnappers," he said quietly.

                Elladan drew a trembling breath.  "I know, Elrohir, I know.  But at times it is difficult to bear that in mind.  How fares Estel?"

                "He sleeps."

                "It is just as well," sighed the elder twin, "For Orcs are still beyond his skill.  When I sought Father's permission to allow Estel to join us forth, I expected he might have a chance to fell a wolf, no more."

                Elrohir shook his head.  "It seems that Fortune thought differently.  I shall stay with Estel here in camp, along with two good warriors, supposing that the scouts indeed report that there are Orcs to hunt."

                "I think that wise," agreed Elladan.  "Look!  I see a scout approaching even now."

                As the three Elves conversed at the edge of camp, however, they did not realize they had an eavesdropper.

                Estel lay wrapped in his blankets, shaking his head slightly.  "I want to fight!" he whispered into the dark, and he swore to himself that he would fulfill his wish.

*   *   *

Author's Notes:  Thanks to all who reviewed!

Good point – I'm a dork.  'Elrohir' is spelled with an 'r' in the middle.  I'm a dope.

I like Elladan and Elrohir.  They're fun to write.

I hope no one minds the original character Elves.  They probably won't be instrumental to the story.

Part Three coming soon … lots of battles!  *grins*

~~Vikki


	3. Part III

_Friends are for Such a Time as This – Part III_

By Vikki

*   *   *

                It was times such as this when discretion was the better part of valor, but for the Elves of Mirkwood, this did not make fleeing in the face of their enemy any easier.

                Legolas could not see his companions, but he could hear them, faintly, in the trees.  The Orcs were closer, but whether they were the same Orcs or another band he could not tell.  The trees spoke of coming danger, but they fell silent when the danger was too near.

                He raised his eyes when he heard the lone trill of a songbird, for it was no songbird who sang, unless one counted Encirith a songbird.  The song warned of peril to the east and north, but sang of friendship to the south.  Legolas put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle of his own, saying that he had received the warning.

                "We must move faster," murmured the Elf, "and we must do so with great caution."

                He notched an arrow to his bow as a precaution.

*   *   *

                "A band of Orcs, fifty strong, travels this way from the north and east of us," the scout murmured as he dipped his head in acknowledgement of his lords Elladan and Elrohir.  "They are now perhaps five leagues distant, and they move fast.  One might think they were pursuing something … and perhaps they are, although I know not what."

                Elladan cradled his chin in his hand.  "Fifty strong?  That should hardly be a problem for our company, for we have the advantage of the trees."

                "But we have Estel to consider," Elrohir reminded his brother.  "I do not think he can stay motionless in the branches as we do; although I would remain with him, that may not be enough if too many Orcs draw near."

                "If I may, Elrohir," interrupted the scout, "allow me to suggest that we go forth to meet these Orcs, and thus prevent them from ever nearing our camp."

                "An excellent proposal," agreed Elladan, a grim smile upon his lips.  "And you shall remain behind with Estel, Elrohir?"

                Elrohir nodded to his older brother, fingering his bow restlessly.  "I will ask Morereg and Novhoth to stay behind with me."

                "Gather and rouse the others," Elladan directed the scout.  "We shall make plans for attack.  But do not wake Estel, if you can prevent it; the longer he sleeps, the better, for I fear that he will desire too strongly to face the Orcs in combat."

*   *   *

                Estel lay in his blanket still, skillfully faking slumber as one of the Elves of the company went about rousing his companions, but behind closed eyes his young mind worked quite swiftly.

                He knew his brothers loved him well, but he felt they underestimated him.  He knew his skill with the bow and arrow was poor, but he was well capable with the sword-dagger he carried.  However, if Elrohir got his way, Estel would never be close enough to an Orc to strike it, much less slay it.  Thus, he knew that he would have to leave camp ere Elladan's attack was launched; after the majority of the Elves had left, Elrohir's full attention would be given Estel, and there would be no hope of escape.

He dared not leave until the camp was alive with activity, for he knew from experience that it was folly to underestimate the ears of the Elves, and even then Estel was prepared to use all of the covert skills his brother Elrohir had taught him to escape into the woods.  For the first time on this short trip, Estel was grateful that the nature of camping required he sleep in his day-clothes.

He listened as the Elves around him awoke to the call of the scout, slinging their bows upon their backs and strapping their quivers in place.  He dared to crack one eye open, and saw that the Elves had moved to gather in the far corner of the camp, glancing furtively about as they huddled near to Elldan's soft voice.

The boy flung off his covers as silently as he could, looking often toward the group of Elves in hopes that none would look in his direction.  Estel quickly rolled the second layer into a small mass and flung the cover over the wadded cloth, so it appeared at a distance that he remained in his bedding.  He then slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder, grasped his sword-dagger in its scabbard, and snuck towards the woods.  Twice he saw Elrohir's gaze fall upon his bedding, and twice the Elf sighed quietly and turned again to his brother.  Estel could not help holding his breath with fear each time.  But the Elves were engrossed in their plans and the upcoming battle; they did not worry about the sleeping young Man.  In minutes Estel had gained the edge of the woods, and he quickly slipped beyond the line of trees.

It was several more minutes before Estel allowed himself to breathe normally, and yet more time before he was certain he would not make too much noise strapping his scabbard to his belt buckle.  But the moment that he felt the cold leather against his leg, he smiled at the still, dark woods.  He was finally going forth to fight the Orcs.

*   *   *

Gromthak was frustrated.

He glared at his fellow Orcs with eyes full of malice, but they only returned the look, and the effect was completely lost, so he turned his gaze to the trees – the hostile trees, far too wholesome for his liking.  "How many Elves are there?" he demanded.

"Only one that we've seen, but where there's one there's almost certainly others," said one Ufzag, easily the most obnoxious of the group.  Or was that Bashnag?  Gromthak did not particularly care, but if he did not find an Elf to kill soon, he would have to settle for one of his comrades.

"Don't you think I know that?" hissed Grimmazh.

"Who cares?  One Elf, fifty Elves, kill them all!" snapped Bashnag.

"Fifty Elves?  We'll all die!" cried Ufzag.

"I'll kill you all if I can't kill an Elf!" Gromthak finally screamed, "And the ruler of Dol Guldur will eat us all for his supper!  Find one and cut it to pieces!"

"Cut off its nose," Bashnag exclaimed in the heat of the moment.

"And its ears!" squeaked Ufzag.

"Make it beg for death!  Scream for death!" added Grimmazh enthusiastically, and from there the cries for torture degenerated into enraged rambling as the Orcs fought amongst themselves.

Gromthak could stand it no longer; he thrust his fist into the face of a smaller Orc and was silently pleased to hear its quashed nose break.  "Stop speaking of it and make it happen!" he snarled, and with that the fragmented Orc band tramped off into the hateful, hostile woods.

*   *   *

                Elrohir murmured his goodbye to his brother as Elladan leapt into the trees, the last of the departing Elves to leave the clearing.  Silently he offered up a prayer to Eärendil for his brother's safekeeping; he did not think that he could stand to lose another of his family to the horrors of Orcish captivity.

                Morereg clapped the younger twin on the shoulder, a gentle smile on his long, thin face.  "You need not fear for Elladan, my lord.  You know even better than I that he is a capable warrior, strong in combat and swift with the bow."

                "I know," Elrohir replied with a smile of his own, "And I thank you for your concern.  In truth, I do not know why I feel such a heaviness in my heart.  I feel as if a disaster brings its doom upon us, but I do not see its methods; we are more than enough for a band of fifty Orcs!"

                Novhoth looked towards were Estel lay in his bedding.  "He sleeps deeply, Elrohir," he observed.  "Truly the children of Men do not sleep as we do."

                But Elrohir was surprised by this bit of news, and he too turned his attention to the bundled figure.  "That is strange," said he, "for Estel does not sleep heavily, at least not as Men might count it.  Indeed, he seems too still …"

                Fear suddenly took hold of Elrohir's heart, and he leapt forth to pull the covers from the sleeping form of Estel.  But inside the cover lay only a rolled up blanket.

                Elrohir could hardly breathe, and he closed his eyes to keep his distress in check.  "Estel," he whispered when his throat allowed him voice.  "He is gone!"

*   *   *

Estel was becoming a little worried.

                This was not the first time Estel had been in the woods, for Rivendell was surrounded with luscious trees and foliage, and many times the child had gone tramping about in the wilderness just beyond the buildings of the stronghold.  However, these woods were altogether different from his longtime home; here, the birds did not sing, the wind did not stir the branches, and the sound of flowing water, ever present in Imladris from the river Bruinen, was not near.  In short, it was entirely too quiet.

                Estel was good at sneaking when he tried, but the crunch of fallen leaves beneath his feet seemed to echo for miles every time he took a step.  Once he stepped upon a hidden branch, and when the branch snapped under his weight the sound was terrifyingly loud.

                He did not know how long or how far into the woods he walked, but when he stopped, he thought that perhaps that was the better policy.  If he remained perfectly silent, he could hear anyone approaching, for the woods just as silent as he.  For a time he did this, not moving, not daring to move.  But the longer he sat, the louder his breath grew in his ears, and his mind began to play tricks on him.  A hanging vine on a crooked tree became an Orc with a whip, and Estel drew his sword with a deafening ring of metal.  But the Elven blade did not glow blue, for there were no Orcs near.

                It was at that moment that the boy suddenly realized that he did not know where he was, or whence he came.  The fallen leaves completely hid his trail.  As Estel cast about him in hopes of seeing a landmark, something he remembered, he knew that he had been paying too close attention to his ears, and not enough to his eyes.  He could not seem to remember a single thing he had seen as he traveled!

                With a terrified sigh the boy clutched his sword in white hands, looking wildly about him even as he tried to remain calm.

                It is hard to remain level-headed when one realizes one is well and truly lost.

*   *   *

Airelond was the furthest south of the hunting party, as well as he could make out from the direction of the whistles sent his way.  However, he was also the furthest east, and he had already felled one Orc that looked up at a poor interval.  Now he crouched nervously in the top branches of a tree, one ear pressed tight to the bark.  It was not that he was afraid, for Airelond had been fighting the Orcs and spiders of Mirkwood for well over a thousand years, and in that time he had more than once faced odds worse than ten to one.  No, he was not nervous for the Orcs; he was nervous for the strange message of the tree in which he sat.  It spoke of other travelers in the trees, faster than the wind and fierce in their intentions, but whether for ill or good it did not seem to know.

Several Orcs paused beneath the tree, and the tree grew hushed as though the Orcs could hear its words.  Airelond sat as still as he could manage, but his fingers itched upon his bow.  It was difficult to remember that his supply of arrows could be counted on both hands and would not soon be replenished when the Enemy presented itself so obliviously.

Thus he was greatly surprised when three arrows in quick succession flew from the trees to his right, felling all three goblins without a sound.  Airelond whirled about, caring not who heard him, his bow lifted and arrow notched, for even those with mutual enemies were not always friendly.

He found himself the mirror image of another Elf.

Airelond could not stop the soft sigh that escaped his lips, and the Elf opposite him smiled grimly, relaxing his bow.  "Forgive me, friend, I knew you not," he said in a hushed voice.

"Nor did I, but you should not have so surprised me," whispered Airelond, realizing that the Elf was one of the Rivendell party. "We knew that a company hailed from Imladris, and we have been moving towards you as swiftly as we might these last three hours.

"You hail from Mirkwood?" inquired the Elf.

"Indeed, I am Airelond of Mirkwood, and there are three more in my party," Airelond replied.  "I fear we may have brought this trouble upon you, for the Orcs know of our presence.  We had hoped for your support, for it was Encirith's assessment that your delegation was a hunting party.  Our supplies are limited; we have not the tools to effectively fight a band of Orcs this size."

"Then you are in luck, Airelond of Mirkwood," smiled the Imladris Elf, "for we are more than prepared for such a battle.  Join you our company?  Allies are welcome, and surely you hope to put an arrow through the eye of your pursuers."  He offered several arrows from his full quiver.

"Indeed I do," agreed Airelond with almost undue enthusiasm, taking the proffered arrows and notching one to his bow, even as he let out a songbird trill to relay his position.

*   *   *

                He had been following the Orc band for nearly a day now, so desperate for food was he.

                He had not precisely a consciousness; he did have an intelligence, for he knew that where there were Orcs there was often food to be found, for Orcs delighted in senseless killing and more often than not left behind delightfully large carcasses still laden with meat.  He also knew that fresh meat was better, and thus killing with his own paws was often preferable to feeding of the remains left by others.

However, his need for food was more driving than the need for fresh food.  His left hind leg pained him, and even trotting was a chore he found difficult.  He licked at the wound whenever he could, but it did little to ease the pain and only whet his appetite for blood.

But what was this now, what was this?  One of the creatures that went about on two legs, a small one, and all alone.  There were many creatures that went about on two legs, but the small, thin ones (not small round ones that carried fierce, sharp axes) were the easiest to capture and kill and eat.  Their meat was not all that good, but the Orcs he had followed had not left anything, and he needed to eat.  Needed to eat anything.

The small one looked about with wide eyes, and he held in his hand a sharp tool, a sword, but the little one knew not how to hide.  Hiding was easy for the four-legged one.  It was the jumping and killing that was hard.  But he had no choices now, no, he did not.  He gathered himself, licked his chops once, and sprang toward the little one's nice white throat.

*   *   *

Author's Notes:  I guess I should mention the origin of the names of some of the original characters.  I use a name-generator at http://www.barrowdowns.com for all of my original names, and it asks you to put in modern names to find out 'who they are' in Middle-Earth.  So, er … 'Airelond' is 'Jack'.  And Encirith is 'Bob'.  *laughs*  Glirhuin, on the other hand, is the name of an obscure minstrel in _The Silmarillion_.

Sorry I didn't have a whole bunch of battles like I promised; I think this story is also going to end up being five chapters instead of just four, like I thought.

Thank you sooo much for all the reviews!  I appreciate them more than you know.

::grins evilly:: Enjoy the cliffhanger … ::laughs::

~~Vikki


	4. Part IV

_Friends are for Such a Time as This – Part IV_

By Vikki

*   *   *

"How could I have missed his going?" Elrohir cried, his fists curled at his sides. "Estel is but a child!  How could I have not heard him stalking off into the woods?  How could I have not seen him?"

"Do not blame yourself, Elrohir!" exclaimed Novhoth, grasping the Elven lord by the shoulders.  "We all missed his going.  I am just as much to blame as you."

"He is my responsibility," sighed Elrohir, but his features grew less distraught as he raised his eyes to the trees and stars above.

"All hope is not lost, my lord," said Morereg.  "He cannot have gone far."

"Aye," agreed Elrohir, his voice a lament.  "He must be close."  He drew himself up and stood with a forlorn look.  "Let us go into the woods and seek him out.  He does not yet know how to hide his trail.  Let us hope we find him before the Orcs do."

Novhoth looked upon his lord and he perceived the pain with which Elrohir spoke those last few words.  "He will not be taken by the Orcs," he said with quiet conviction, forgetting the doubts of his own mind.  "Have courage, my lord."

Elrohir briefly raised his eyes to the sky before he closed them firmly.  "I have courage.  It is hope I lack."  But when his eyes opened again, they held a new determination, and the Elf picked up his bow and arrow from where they lay on the ground.  "Let us make haste!"

"Aye," agreed Novhoth and Morereg as one, following their superior away from camp and beyond the line of trees.

*   *   *

_We have found friends,_ sang Airelond's trill, and three short songbird whistles informed all who understood that the message had been received.

The Orc below Legolas looked up at the song, but he was dead before he could say a word.

Legolas drew another arrow and notched it to his bow, drawing it slightly taut as he waited expectantly.  But no other Orcs appeared, and the Elven prince relaxed after a time.

He and Glirhuin were now less than a league from the Rivendell camp, but Legolas had surpassed Airelond to the south, and he saw more Orcs here.  Glirhuin was further west than he; Legolas could no longer hear him passing through the trees.  Indeed, he could hear very little but the sound of squabbling Orcs, for a group not far away was snarling at one another in the foul Black Language of Mordor.  Legolas grimaced and wished to stop his ears, but he could not for carrying his weapons; instead he fled into the trees, away from the fell sound and towards allies.

The Elven prince leapt from tree to tree with nearly silent catlike grace, only a slight swaying of the branches and a rustling of autumn leaves betraying his passing.  Soon he would be upon the Elven camp; perhaps there he could meet with the Imladris party and discuss a strategy, for his arrows were running low, and he knew his companions would be faring much the same.

*   *   *

                "Gromthak!  Ufzag is dead!" cried Bashnag as he clanked forward in his heavy armor.

                Gromthak curled his lip.  "Good riddance."

                "But it was an Elf!"

                Gromthak took no measures to resist the urge to do violence and wrapped his fingers around Bashnag's ugly throat.  "Of course it was an Elf!  We do not drop dead suddenly for no reason, and these woods are crawling with them!  Or haven't you noticed, you dimwitted fool!"  He dropped the Orc unceremoniously and left him there to cough and choke.  "Come on, the Elf can't be far away from that camp Knashkom told us about.  Get up, you lazy louts!" He snapped at the others when they looked away in disinterest.  "We go to the camp!"

*   *   *

                Estel gripped the sword in his hands so tightly that his fingers began to ache.  He closed his eyes briefly and drew a long, slow breath, for that was how Elladan had taught him to calm himself before he fired an arrow.  The exercise helped, and his heart stopped racing in his chest.  However, Estel remained faced with the same problem; he knew not where he was, or how to return to camp.

                "Perhaps someone has noticed I am missing," he whispered into the silence of the forest, and his voice seemed unnaturally loud.  "Elrohir will come for me.  He could always find me, no matter where I hid."  He smiled, pretending to be brave, but it was impossible to imagine that this dark forest was the halls of Imladris, where he hid in jest from his long-lived Elven brother.  This was no game, and Estel was very frightened.

                He had two choices before him; to continue to crouch here on the forest floor, hoping to be seen by an Elf, or to begin again to walk, in hopes he would find camp on his own.  However, it seemed equally likely to Estel that he should walk _away_ from camp as _towards_ it, and if his brothers were indeed looking for him, he did not want to make it any more difficult to find him than he already had.  In the end, because he could not decide which was better, he stayed where he was in a quandary of indecision.

                He heard something stepping upon the leaves.  Startled, Estel brought his sword to bear again, rising halfway to his feet and looking about wildly, attempting to pinpoint the sound.

                Something snarled behind him, and the terrifying sound was accompanied by crunching leaves.  Estel spun about, his sword held out before him as Elladan had taught him, but he was completely unprepared for the attack, for a large gray wolf leapt upon him, its paws landing on Estel's chest, its teeth bared and snapping.  The momentum of the wolf carried them both to the forest floor.

                Estel let out a startled shout and thrust his sword forward with abandon.

*   *   *

                Legolas paused in the trees when he heard a wolfish snarl, and he held his breath.  Were there wolves as well as Orcs about?  He had little to fear from either, but in his mind a shadow seemed to grow.  Danger was close, but he knew not who was fallen victim.  "Glirhuin?" he mused aloud in a whisper , drawing a short breath.

He was prepared to signal to his companion and inquire about his wellbeing when a childish shout echoed in the woods.  Legolas lifted his head and looked about, for the sound was not far off.  "What would a child be doing in these woods?" he asked himself in a voice too low to be heard, and he wondered briefly if he had only imagined the sound.  But again there was snarling and snapping teeth, and Legolas dared no longer tarry; he followed the sound to the south and east, seeking out the distressed child and begging the Valar for mercy upon the young soul.

*   *   *

                A childish shout echoed in the woods.

                "Hear you that?" asked Elrohir sharply.

                "Aye, I heard it," nodded Novhoth, "But I know not where the sound came from."  He kept his arrow notched and at the ready, for he was not comfortable standing on the forest floor.  He would have felt better in the trees, where he and his lord would not be easily seen by the Enemy, but from the trees Elrohir could not properly track his brother.  Morereg had gone some way ahead in the treetops, prepared to lay waste to any approaching Orcs, but Novhoth could not stifle his uneasiness, for the Orcs brought with them evil, which cast a shadow upon the Elf's mind.

Elrohir had drawn his sword, but he crouched in the leaves, examining them for signs of a small child passing.  However, he had found nothing; the leaves were too fresh fallen, and the small breezes that interrupted the stifling calm had removed all traces of footfalls.  "He knew it not, but Estel chose well his timing if he wishes to remain unfound," Elrohir observed grimly.  "There is no way for me to track him, for he knows enough to not leave a trail of broken twigs and bent branches behind him, and the leaves have entirely hidden any passing.  See, even _our_ tracks are hidden from us!"  He gestured to the path behind them, and indeed, the leaves had covered up the path.

The Elven lord straightened and gazed piercingly into the trees, as if he could see through them straight to Estel.  "That shout was his; of that I have no doubt," he said.  "I cannot tell for certain where it came from, but certainly it was to our north at least.  Come!  Perhaps he will cry out again!  And may we find him before he is killed, for Estel would not cry out unless in distress."

*   *   *

                A child's cry echoed through the woods.

                Gromthak lifted his head, a malicious gleam in his green eyes.  "There is a child in these woods!"

                Grimmazh licked his curved blade and laughed with a rasp.  "Let us find him!  Surely he will make good sport."

                "But do we not seek out the Elves?" asked Bashnag pitifully, his voice still broken from Gromthak's grip.

                "Shut up, you fool," snarled Gromthak smartly, and the smaller Orc whimpered in fear.  "Of course we seek Elves, and we shall continue to do so!  But if we happen on a child along the way, what is the harm?  If you say one more word upon this journey, I shall kill you, and no mistake!  Do not speak to me again!"

                "Yes sir," mumbled Bashnag, following behind.

*   *   *

                Estel's sword cut into the wolf by pure chance, and with a snarl and a whimper the creature fell back, off of Estel's chest.  Breathing hard and fast, the child scrambled to his feet, holding his sword before him in trembling hands, keeping it between himself and the wolf as the wolf stalked around him, limping, yellow eyes filled with malice.

                Estel again took deep breaths, trying very hard to remain calm as he had been taught.  Elladan's lessons came back to him, and he changed his grip on his sword to a one-handed one, moving his feet so he remained balanced as he turned, always facing the wolf.

                It took but a few moments before the wolf again leapt forward, jaws wide.  Estel cried out again, but his voice was full of determination as he stepped forward, pointing his sword at the leaping wolf's chest.

                The wolf whimpered and keened as the blade sunk point-first into its chest, its body falling upon Estel and covering his clothes with dark blood.  Estel landed on his back in the leaves, the wolf laying upon him.  It weakly keened again, and with that it died.

                With trembling hands, Estel pushed the body off himself and sat upon his knees, breathing fast and shallowly.  He felt weak at the knees, and he did not know if he felt so from fright or shock.  Never before had he killed a creature larger than a beetle; he could not look upon the body, for it made him feel ill.  He could not even muster the courage to draw his sword from the wolf.

                So it was that he almost did not hear the bushes to his left shaking as creatures approached, but in the end his ears attuned to the sound.  Estel looked up suddenly, and his throat went dry.  He could not even cry out.

                Orcs.

                "What is this?" hissed one of them in Westron, his twisted features reflecting a parody of a grin.  "A child with no guard?"

                "Elbereth save me!" Estel breathed in horror.

*   *   *

                 Legolas heard Glirhuin's whistle, asking if he had heard the second cry.  Legolas replied he had, and hurried yet faster through the treetops, abandoning soundlessness in favor of speed.  If any Orc heard him, they looked too late to see his passing.

                So it was that he came upon the boy, a child of Man, his shirt blood-spattered and his features pale, gazing down upon a wolf whose chest was pierced through by a dagger.  "The child did this?" he breathed wonderingly, amazed that one so young could defend himself so.  But his amazement did not last long, for he was concerned that the child was hurt, and he prepared to leap down and come to his aid.

                It was then he heard the approaching creatures, and with a swift movement he notched an arrow to his bow and pointed it at the source of the sound, becoming an Elven statue poised to attack.

                Orcs.

                They stepped into the clearing, and the boy looked up, his eyes wide with unhidden fear.  The largest Orc snarled something in Westron, but what Legolas cared not; he released his arrow and it passed through the Orc's head, killing him instantly.

                The boy gasped aloud as Legolas notched two more arrows in quick succession, killing the dead Orc's companions with the efficiency of an assassin in the dark.  He took a moment to wait for any more approaching enemies; when none came, he leapt from the tree where he hid and landed lightly on the ground, no more than ten feet from the shaken child.  The boy made a stifled, wordless noise, spinning about to face him even as he scrambled back through the leaves.

                "Fear not," Legolas said in Westron, for he knew not where the boy came from.  "I am an Elf, and I mean you no harm.  Be still, child, and let me see that you are not hurt."

                The boy looked at him cautiously, the fear fading from his eyes, but his wariness persisted.  "You are not from Rivendell," said he.

                Legolas raised his eyebrows at the child, coming forward to kneel before him.  "That is true," he agreed, surprised by the child's knowledge, but he did not press the matter.  "Let me see to you and ascertain you are not hurt."

                "I am well," the boy protested, but he allowed Legolas to examine him for injury.  He still trembled slightly, and his breath was labored.

                As Legolas checked the child over, he realized then how the boy had known Legolas was not from Imladris; his clothes were unmistakably of Elven make, and the patterns thereof the signature of Rivendell.  "You are from Rivendell, child?" he asked as he looked up, attempting by his own calmness to relax the boy, although the Elven prince was surprised by his discovery.

*   *   *

                "You are from Rivendell, child?"

                Estel nodded slowly, watching the Elf that aided him warily, although his fear was largely assuaged.  It was this Elf that had felled the Orcs with a speed Estel had not seen even Elladan match.  He looked upon the clothes of his savior and was reminded of the Elven messengers from the East that came on occasion to Imladris.  "I am.  You are from Mirkwood?"

                The Elf's lips quirked slightly, his bright eyes gazing into the dark woods to their east.  "You know much, child," he said, "and there is much I would ask you, but more Orcs come.  Is this your dagger?" the Elf indicated the corpse of the wolf, and Estel grimaced slightly as he nodded.  "Very good."  The Elf freed the sword-dagger from the body with one swift movement and wiped the blade upon a cloth.  "Take it and put it away.  The Valar willing, it will be no more use to you tonight."

                Even as Estel slid the blade back into its scabbard, the Mirkwood Elf stood straight and still, eyes still fixed upon the eastern trees.  He murmured to himself in a form of Elvish unknown to Estel before he spoke again.  "They are too close for comfort.  We go south and west, as quickly and silently as possible."

                "What is south and west of us?" Estel could not help inquiring.

                Again the Elf's mouth quirked, his eyes full of amusement.  "The Rivendell camp.  Surely you know of it?"

                Estel felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he bowed his head.  "I was completely lost," he murmured.

                "And now you are not," said the Elf, the mirth in his voice cloaking the iron.  "Let us hurry!"

*   *   *

Author's Notes:  Sorry this section took so long!  I had a lot to think about – mostly about how Legolas would interact with a child, and how Estel would act with someone he doesn't know.

I think it's very likely that Estel is 1)fairly mature for someone his age, and 2)eager to grow up as fast as possible.  I think this because Estel is a nine-year-old surrounded by beings hundreds and thousands of years older than him.  Witness my little brother, who acts like he's at least three years older than he is because he's determined to be just like his older brother.  Hence, I make Estel mature in speech and reasoning skills, but a bit on the childish side in his eagerness to fight and rush into things he doesn't truly understand.

Legolas is a little harder, I think, because as far as I can tell he's a younger Elf, and he's probably had little or no dealings with beings significantly younger than him.  I'll bet Legolas has never seen an Elven child.  He thus is a bit self-contradictory: he didn't expect Estel to know how to defend himself, but he seems to expect the child to be able to sneak around easily.  Truth is, he doesn't know *what* to expect; he doesn't know the limitations of humans or children.  That will play into the next and (hopefully) final chapter.  ^___^x

Thanks for all the reviews!  I love them – they're so helpful, especially the reviews that tell me what you like and what you want next.  This is the sort of thing authors like me are always looking for.  ^____^x

Next chapter, Legolas tries to get Estel back to camp safely, Encirith encounters Elladan, and Legolas meets with Elrohir!  Thanks for reading, and please keep reviewing!

~~Vikki


	5. Part V

_Friends Are for Such a Time as This – Part V_

_By Vikki_

*   *   *

                The battle in the woods progressed quietly, and in the favor of the Elves; the Orcs fell swift and heavy under the trees.  Elladan smiled grimly as yet another of his arrows pierced the throat of one of the foul creatures.

                "All of the Orcs to the north have been wiped out," announced one approaching Rivendell warrior.  "No more approach from that direction."

                "But a few remain to the east," added another Elf, wiping Orcish blood off his sword.  "We go now to retrieve what arrows we can."

                "Good," Elladan answered shortly.  "Send for the others and ask them to return to camp.  Was anyone wounded?"

                "Mannólë's face was grazed by an un-poisoned arrow, but otherwise everyone has emerged unscathed," explained one as the other replied, "No, all were spared."

                "Very good," Elladan did not bother to suppress the smile that came to his face at the news. "Hurry and gather everyone."

                But even as Elladan so instructed the Elves, there was a slight sound in the branches nearby.  All three Elves swiveled toward the noise, raising swords and bows.

                "Do not shoot!" exclaimed a soft Elven voice, and then they saw the intruder, for he stepped into easy view.  It was a wood-Elf, his clothes cut and tailored in the fashion of the Mirkwood Elves; at the sight, the Rivendell Elves relaxed their fighting stances.  

The Wood-Elf's quiver was empty, but his knife bore Orc-blood; as he stepped into view he bowed slightly, as best he could from his precarious perch atop the slim branch.  "Forgive me for intruding.  My name is Encirith, and I hail from Greenwood.  One of my companions, a warrior named Airelond, has already encountered your party; there are two more of us, and they journey to your camp."  Here he smiled briefly.  "We meant to ask your aid in fighting these Orcs, for they encountered us early in the night, but it seems you have aided us without our asking.  I thank you on behalf of our scouting party."

"A star shines upon the hour of our meeting," Elladan said, slightly surprised.  "Our enemy is yours, and far be it from me to fail to honor the treaty between Mirkwood and Rivendell, even if unknowingly.  But you seem rather far from Mirkwood for a scouting party."

"Indeed we are, but the story is somewhat long and Orcs remain in these foothills," Encirith replied, again bowing slightly.  "Please allow me to ask for sanctuary at your camp when the danger has passed, and I will tell you the story then."

"There is no need to be so formal," Elladan dismissed the issue.  "You and your companions are welcome at our campfires, as the Elves of Mirkwood always are.  "Come with me.  We shall hunt down the last of the Orcs together, if it suits you."  He smiled.

"That suits me well," smiled the Mirkwood Elf.

*   *   *

                The Rivendell camp was completely deserted.

                Glirhuin perched in a tree at the edge of the clearing where the Rivendell Elves had made camp and frowned slightly.  It seemed foolish to him to leave a camp entirely unguarded; what if a contingent of Orcs approached from the south unexpectedly and ravaged the camp?  Then again, he supposed, leaving only a token guard to defend against a large number of Orcs would be relatively hopeless.

                Legolas would be arriving at the camp soon, in all likelihood; taking this into account, Glirhuin settled down to wait.  After all, his quiver was nearly empty, and the shallow wound in his side needed to be checked, although it did not cause him excessive pain.  There was no need to go seeking out trouble.

*   *   *

                Glirhuin could not have known it, but Legolas might have appreciated the companionship of a fellow Elf to scout for danger in the trees above.  As it was, he was trapped on the ground with the child in his care.  His eyes darted this way and that, searching out anything that moved in the distance; he kept an arrow nocked on the string of his bow.  He was not nervous, but neither was he comfortable.

                To hurry with the boy meant to lose stealth, for although the boy could travel with remarkable silence for one so young, he could only do so slowly.  Short of carrying the boy over his shoulder, Legolas could think of no way to carry on both quietly and quickly, so instead they traveled rather noisily but with haste.

                "What is your name, child?" Legolas asked at length, aiding the boy as he climbed over a particularly large fallen tree.

                "Estel," the boy answered.

                _An odd name for a child of Men,_ Legolas could not help but think.  "My name is Legolas, and I am pleased to meet you, although it is unfortunate we do so in such strenuous circumstances.  Do you speak Sindarin?"

                "I do," Estel answered after a moment; his reply was in the Elvish language, and the dialect was that of Elves living west of the Misty Mountains.  Legolas smiled slightly to hear the Rivendell Sindarin on the child's tongue.  "Elrond has taught me both Elvish and Westron.  He says that both shall be useful to me."

                "Indeed they will," Legolas agreed, again slightly surprised by the answer Estel gave.  He heard a sound to the left of them and he paused, silent for a moment, placing a hand on Estel's shoulder to cause the boy to halt.  But when there was no further sound, the Mirkwood prince relaxed.  It was not the nature of goblins and Orcs to sneak, and the breeze sometimes made the trees rustle their branches.  "How came you to be lost in the woods?"

                The boy's cheeks tinged faintly pink.  "That …"

*   *   *

                "I hear voices," said Novhoth.

                Elrohir had become as still as a statue, listening as well.  "I too hear voices," he murmured, "but I cannot yet make out what they are saying."

                "Let us follow them," suggested Morereg.  "At worst the voice will belong to Orcs, and we are more than enough for them!"

                Elrohir merely nodded, and with that the three hurried into the woods, traveling north and east.

*   *   *

                Only Shagrat remained of that sorry band of Orcs that had stumbled upon the child, and he remained only because he had become separated from the group as they ran.  When he came upon the three dead Orcs in the clearing, he spat upon their bodies.  "Serves you right!" he snarled.  "Serves you right for breaking poor Shagrat's nose!"

                But now, without a leader, Shagrat did not know what he wished to do.  He considered this for a while, and finally decided that he was not in the mood to be shot.  He would beat a hasty retreat, back to the caves in the mountains where he would be safe from the sun and the Elves crawling all over these woods.

                Unfortunately, he was not entirely certain which way the Misty Mountains were.

                He picked a direction at random and plowed onwards, mumbling about horrible luck and nasty Elves.

*   *   *

                Legolas did not suppress the growing smile on his face as Estel related the embarrassing story of how he had come to be lost in the woods.  Although he was amused, in truth he was also sympathetic; he understood the boy's frustration with the supposed overprotective efforts of his family.  It was strange to Legolas that Estel considered Lord Elrond as his father and the Lord's sons as his brothers, but then, it was strange that a Man was being raised in a house of Elves.  He supposed he could ask Elladan and Elrohir himself once they were at the camp; according to Estel, they had traveled out as members of the Rivendell hunting party.

                "By now Elrohir must have found me out," Estel concluded, his voice betraying his misery at the thought.  "I must have upset him badly."

                Legolas gave his best reassuring smile.  "I am certain all will be well as soon as he sees you again."

                "I hope you are right," the boy conceded slowly.  He glanced up at Legolas with an imploring gaze.  "Will we be there soon?"

                "We shall," the Mirkwood Elf responded, clapping the boy on the shoulder.  "We shall indeed."  But at that moment, he knew he heard something that was not natural; it sounded as if the dry leaves on the ground were being shifted, but the breeze did not blow.  "Get down!" he hissed to Estel, pushing the boy with a firm hand until he was kneeling on the ground.  He then drew his last arrow taut, pointing it towards the sound.

                He had only one shot, but it was all he would need.

                "Ai! Ho, Elf!"

                With those words, his opponent appeared.

*   *   *

                "Ai!  Ho, Elf!"

                Estel jerked up his head at the voice, staring intently.  Above him, his savior Elf shifted his grip on the arrow strung upon his bow, about to release.

                But it was no Orc voice that called those words.

                "Legolas, do not shoot!" Estel cried, grasping the Mirkwood Elf by the knee.  "That is Elrohir's voice!"

                He realized suddenly that even as he spoke Legolas was relaxing his bow again, the slightest signs of relief upon his face.  "Ho, Rivendell!" he called.  "Is that Lord Elrohir I see?"

                "It is indeed," replied the dark-haired Elven lord, stepping forward and into Estel's line of sight.  His gaze immediately went to Estel.  "I believe there is something in your possession that I have been searching for, Prince Legolas."

                Estel raised his eyebrows at the word 'prince' and turned astonished eyes upon the Wood-Elf.  But Legolas only glanced at him, and his smile was cryptic.  "It is my pleasure to return that something, my friend."  He ushered Estel forward.

Before Estel even had a chance to move, he found himself swept into a warm and loving hug from Elrohir.  "Oh, Estel, you frightened me so," he whispered as he lifted the boy off his feet.

                "I am sorry," Estel answered, and he was.  He had never been sorrier for anything in his life, he realized suddenly.  He clutched the Elf's shirt as he returned the desperate hug.  "I know I did wrongly, and I am so, so sorry … Please forgive me."

                "You have come back to me safe and sound, and that is all that matters," Elrohir murmured, finally drawing back to gaze upon the boy.  "You are forgiven."  But as his gaze fell to Estel's shirt, a surprised look came to him.  "Estel, I thought you were—"

                "Estel is well," Legolas interrupted from behind Estel.  "He is covered in the blood of a wolf, which he killed himself.  You should be proud of the boy."

                Elrohir looked wonderingly on Estel, and the boy was about to explain when Elrohir and Legolas both looked up sharply.  "Behind me," Elrohir ordered, drawing his sword as Legolas barked, "Stay down!" and again notched his arrow.

                _This is getting somewhat repetitive, _Estel could not stop the thought as he drew his own sword and crouched behind Elrohir. 

*   *   *

                Shagrat crept along, keeping his short bow trained before him, prepared to shoot anything that moved.  He did not want to die; if he encountered an Elf, he would kill it before it could kill him.

                He heard voices; with a shout, he jumped out and attacked, releasing his arrow and reaching for another as he did so.

*   *   *

                The Orcish arrow whizzed out before Legolas had quite registered that the Orc who had appeared carried such a weapon.  He leapt aside; fortunately, the creature had not aimed well, and its shot went wide of not only himself, but Elrohir and Estel as well.

                In the clear, Legolas trained his arrow on the Orc's forehead while the mutilated thing re-notched an arrow to its bow.

Legolas fired.

                Two arrows from two directions – above and before – slammed into the shameful creature's head.  It died instantly, falling back and crumpling to the ground, its bow and arrow slipping from its hand.

                Elrohir visibly relaxed.  "Morereg," he said simply, sheathing his sword.  Estel, clearly emulating his 'brother', slid his dagger back into its scabbard with a similar, smooth motion.

                Legolas started forward instinctively, but even as he moved a Rivendell Elf dropped out of the trees.  "Well shot," the Elf said cordially, and it was clear that the Elf was Morereg.

                "Yours, too, was an excellent shot," Legolas replied, bowing slightly in deference.

                "Nay, mine was cheap.  An easy target that Orc made," Morereg answered.  "And it matters not.  I have been informed by Novhoth that Elladan is returning to camp as we speak, Elrohir.  Shall we go, then?"

                Elrohir smiled. "We would not want to worry him, would we, Estel?" he asked, looking down at the boy.

                Estel colored.  "No, we would not," Estel agreed.

                "Then to camp we go," the Elf lord said firmly.

*   *   *

                Glirhuin sat straight when he heard approaching voices speaking in Sindarin, but it took him only a moment to determine the dialect was not Eastern.  Nonetheless, he jumped down from his perch and waited calmly for the arrival of the Rivendell Elves.

                Glirhuin had been on many a trip to Rivendell in his several thousand years of life, and when the first of the Elves stepped into the camp, he immediately recognized Lord Elladan, son of Lord Elrond.  He bowed accordingly.  "Lord Elladan," he said before the Elf could speak.  "My name is Glirhuin of Greenwood, and I—"

                "Yes, Glirhuin, he knows," said an amused, familiar voice, and Glirhuin lifted his head to look upon Encirith.  "I have already told him."

                Elladan's face was broken by a smile.  "Well met, Glirhuin of Mirkwood," he said.  "I understand that Airelond of Mirkwood and Prince Legolas son of Thranduil will be joining us shortly."

But as he spoke he lifted his head and looked about the camp, and his face grew grim.  "Where is Elrohir?" he murmured, mostly, it seemed, to himself.

                "I have not seen him, and I have been sitting here some twenty minutes hence," Glirhuin felt compelled to respond.

                Elladan merely looked at him, and his face was etched with concern.  "I left him here with a young Man named Estel in his care.  They would not have simply left camp."

                An awkward silence ensued, for although Elladan stated that they would _not_ have left camp, that was apparently the case.  There was nothing to indicate that either Elrohir or Estel had been taken forcefully.

                "Something is wrong," Elladan said, and behind him Encirith nodded in agreement, but neither Glirhuin nor Encirith, nor any of the Rivendell Elves that arrived thereafter, had an answer for the puzzle.  Elladan grew more and more worried as time passed; when the last of the Elves excepting those with Elrohir had returned, and the Mirkwood scouts excepting Legolas had been united, he began to pace.  "Where could they have gone?" he murmured as he paced.  "What could have drawn them away?  Why did Elrohir take Estel with him into danger?"

                "Because Estel walked into danger all on his own," replied Elrohir, stepping into the clearing with Estel close on his heels.  Morereg, Novhoth, and Legolas followed soon after.

A cheer went up from all the Elves present, and faster than the mortal eye could see, Elladan crossed the camp and embraced both his twin and the child with him.  "Thank Elbereth you have both emerged safe," the eldest Elf sighed, unwilling to let them go.  "I greatly feared all had gone ill with you, and I had lost you both in a single night."

"Nay, brother; our foul premonitions have come to naught, and I am sorely grateful for that," Elrohir replied, his voice somewhat muffled by Elladan's shoulder.

"We had some near chances," Estel added, hugging the Elf back.

"You shall have to tell me all about it as we pack you up to send you home," Elladan replied as he finally pulled away, turning his mind back to business.  "It must be quite a story, for you to return with so much blood on your clothes."

"It is," Estel agreed with enthusiasm, nodding his head quickly.  "It is shocking."

"Or so declares Legolas," Elrohir said in a whisper, gesturing to where the Mirkwood prince conversed with his fellow scouts.

Elladan smiled.  "It is good to see him again, as well," he said as if remembering something, his voice trailing off into nothingness.

Suddenly he turned on Estel.  "Wait; did not Elrohir say something about you walking into danger all on your own?"

Estel's cheeks again betrayed him, and he smiled shyly.

"He shall have to tell you that story as he is packing, for it ties in with how he obtained the red dye for his clothes," Elrohir said in a teasing manner.

"I shall," Estel agreed.  "I should begin to pack immediately."

Elladan raised an eyebrow at the boy's words.  "What brought on this change of heart, Estel?" he asked, seeing the child's eagerness to return to Imladris.

"You were right, Elladan," Estel replied thoughtfully after a moment or two had passed.  "The day will come when I will wish I did not have quite so many adventures.  And for me, today is that day.  I am ready to go home."

Elladan could not repress his smile.  "And I am glad to hear it, Estel," he said soothingly, smoothing the boy's dark unruly hair.  "For I would not have liked to tie you to the saddle for the ride back to Rivendell!"

Estel stuck out his tongue childishly.  Elladan and Elrohir both laughed, relieved and happy at once.

*   *   *

                There remained still several hours before dawn, and in short order Estel had put his belongings away and settled down to sleep for the remainder of the night.

                Legolas had settled in the low branches of a tree, not far from where Elladan and Elrohir now stood.  Glirhuin's wound was being seen to; Encirith and Airelond were now singing softly but merrily with the Rivendell Elves, laughing as they exchanged supplies.  The Elves of Imladris were more than willing to give their Silvan brethren whatever they required, and provided them with a new supply of arrows and food.

                "I am glad to see all ended well," Legolas observed, hanging one leg off the branch where he sat and swinging it as he sharpened his white knife.

                "As am I," agreed Elladan.

                "I believe all here would agree with you, Legolas," added Elrohir.  He looked up at the prince of Mirkwood.  "I wish to thank you again for taking care of Estel."

                "You would have done naught differently if our positions had been reversed," Legolas dismissed the matter.  "I am only glad that I was in the right place at the right time."

                "Still, I am grateful," Elrohir conceded.

                For a short time they were silent, content to enjoy one another's company as they listened to their companions sing.  It was Elladan who spoke first.  "I believe Estel admires you, Legolas Greenleaf," he said with a slight smile.  "He has told me you draw the bow even faster than I."

                "And you know it to be true," Legolas replied, a cheeky grin coming to his face.  "The Silvan Elves have always been superior to the Noldorin in woodcraft, not the least of which is the bow!"

                "We shall see," Elladan replied cryptically.  But here he paused, and Elrohir spoke up.  "We travel to Mirkwood, Legolas.  Will you travel with us?"

                "As that is my destination also, I would be pleased to do so.  But it does not appear your young companion will be traveling with you."  Legolas looked towards Estel.  "Where goes he?"

                "Back to Imladris, at the command of our father," replied Elrohir, his gaze also upon the boy.  "We will send several good warriors with him, but Elbereth help them if he finds his taste for adventure again along the way!  He is a wily one."

                "You taught him well," observed Elladan, nudging his brother.  "He moves so silently that he escaped the notice of our entire camp!"

                "I did not expect him to apply his lessons in stealth in such a manner," Elrohir responded in turn, his manner affronted.

                "It will behoove him to know such woodcraft," Legolas interrupted their banter and changing the mood of the conversation.  "If I mistake not his appearance, that boy has kin among the Dunedaín."

                "So he does," acknowledged Elladan after a moment of silent consideration.

                "How came he to live under your roof, considering Lord Elrond as a father and you as his brothers?" Legolas asked innocently.

                He did not think anything suspicious about the question, and he was thus surprised to see Elladan and Elrohir exchange glances, communicating silently with their eyes.  At length Elladan responded, "Legolas, I am sorry, but that is not for us to reveal."

                "Upon that subject we can say no more," Elrohir added gravely.  "I can only tell you that Estel is well-named, and all will be revealed in good time.  Please keep this in confidence, my friend."

                Legolas saw that they were disturbed by the question, and he stilled his curiosity.  He placed his hand over his heart.  "I am sorry to have upset you.  I swear upon my honor that I will make no mention of this conversation."

                "Thank you," Elladan and Elrohir spoke in near unison, and they smiled at one another, relief in their faces.  Legolas smiled as well, laying the questions aside for years to come.

*   *   *

                The next morning Estel sat astride his mount, ready to return to Rivendell with his Elven escort.  However, before he left he asked, "Might I speak to Prince Legolas before I go?" he asked Elrohir, who was holding the reins of his mount.

                "I am right here," Legolas replied, and Estel turned to see Legolas standing on the other side of the horse's neck.  He stroked the horse's mane, and Estel's mount whickered gratefully at the proffered affection.  "There is no need for you to call me 'prince'.  We are not in my father's court," he said warmly, a smile upon his fair face.

                "But Elrohir called you—" Estel began before Legolas put a finger to his lips.

                "Nay, Elrohir teased me," Legolas replied, mischief dancing in his grey eyes.  "Nor do I call him Lord Elrohir, except in jest or in times when formality is called for.  What is it you wished to speak to me about?  Surely it was not my title."

                Estel smiled shyly and sat straight upon his mount.  "Thank you, Legolas, for rescuing me last night.  I am in your debt."

                "Think nothing of it, and the debt is forgiven," Legolas replied in turn.  "There is much ahead of you in your young life, and you should not be burdened by such things as debt.  After all, that is what friends do; they help one another.  And I would consider you a friend as I consider your brothers friends, if that is all right with you."

                "Thank you," Estel repeated, doubly grateful.  "I wish to be your friend as well."

                Legolas just smiled again.

                "You are even faster than Elladan with your bow," Estel said after a moment, feeling rather awkward as he spoke.

                But Legolas did not seem to notice his unease.  "I would feel insulted if I were not.  Elladan is rather slow at the draw," Legolas laughed.

                "Do not let this wily wood-Elf tell you lies!" cried Elladan from where he was restringing his bow, but he smiled and laughed as he spoke.

                "I would like very much to learn to be that fast with my bow," Estel confessed to the Mirkwood Elf.

                Legolas' smile softened into a look of affection that Estel had not seen before except on the faces of Elladan and Elrohir.  "Then when I come to visit Rivendell, I shall have to teach you that skill.  Would you like that, Estel?"

                "I would," Estel exclaimed eagerly.  "Again, thank you!"

                "You are very welcome," Legolas replied, patting Estel's knee.  "I will see you soon, even as Men reckon it, if I am able."

                "I will look forward to it," Estel said with a bright smile.

*   *   *

Author's Notes:  Yaaay!  It's done!  *wipes sweat off her brow*

*sighs looking over the last chapter*  It's long, and I don't like this last chapter.  It's all right, I suppose … trying to tie a lot of things together at once was difficult.  I'll probably come back at some later date and revise it.

I don't see how Legolas can possibly have been back and forth from Imladris without having met and befriended the twin sons of Elrond.  It just seems unlikely, as both are of similar status: they are the sons of the lords of their respective realms.  As a result, I portray their relationship as a friendly one.

As usual, I wrote this story on a whim and I find it very highly unlikely that any scenario of this sort unfolded.  I just thought it would be fun to write a short story about Legolas encountering Estel as a child, and then I got completely caught up in getting them to even meet each other, and … well, it stretched.  J  I hope you enjoyed it despite my general failure to do what I wanted!

Feedback is always appreciated, as usual.  Many thanks to all those that read this story and reviewed in the past!  They greatly encouraged me; indeed, they're the reason this fic was ever finished!

PLEASE REVIEW!!  ^_____________________^x

Farewell.  Until we meet again—

~~Vikki


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